Note Worthy
by Whitewolfffy
Summary: Ichigo is an aspiring singer in the star management company, Mew Project. Tensions escalate when she butts heads with a rising rock idol, Kisshu. When he challenges her to a race to fame, will she be able to achieve her dream AND ward him off at the same time? No OOC - author of 'Hearing Voices'.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Mew Mew. Blah, blah, blah.**_

* * *

**~ Chapter One ~**

_Breathe._

The light was brilliant, the hush rising to a crescendo. She could feel their eyes on her. Beneath the radiance, the swell of heat, they were all watching her. She could barely think.

_Breathe_, she repeated to herself.

A beautiful madness fell over the auditorium as the first beat of sound reverberated through the air. The reaction was instantaneous as the audience realized that this was the beginning. The music was starting. Their voices rose, elevating into a chant.

"_Ichigo!" _

That was her name. They were saying her name.

_Breathe._

She lifted her hand, trying to block out the light. It flooded over her, encasing her form in the serene halo.

"_Ichigo! Ichigo!"_

Sweat beaded on her neck, her breath coming out shallow and uneven. Just as abruptly, the light disappeared. This was it. It was only her – Ichigo, surrounded by hundreds. Their eyes were on her, their voices catching as one as they waited in strained suspense for that first, uttered line.

She lifted the microphone, her eyes sweeping closed as her heart thrummed restlessly inside her chest, twisting and fluttering like a caged bird. Her lips brushed the cool metal of mic, parting hesitantly.

"Ichigo!"

She started, sitting upright in her bed. A pair of cool blue eyes assessed the girl's disheveled hair, the wide, sleep-glazed eyes.

"You are late for rehearsal!"

Ichigo blinked owlishly at her manager. Ryou circled her bed, opening and closing drawers as he continued to talk. His movements were sluggish and blurred to her, and she lifted her hands, rubbing at her eyes.

"You were supposed to be there four minutes ago. Do you have any idea how crucial showing up for rehearsals is?"

"What?" She mumbled.

Ryou paused, casting a long, irritable look at her over his shoulder.

"I go through a lot of trouble to get these things scheduled, you ungrateful, stupid girl. I suggest you drag yourself out of that bed before I do it for you."

She glowered at him through her fingers.

Ichigo had known Ryou for several years now. He was only a year older than her, but he acted as though he was her senior by a distance. His parents had died when he was only a child, leaving him the star management company – Mew Project. He was, on record, the youngest heir in the music industry to such a vast fortune. Mew Project was known internationally, and many legendary names had started out as no more than a signature on one of their contracts.

Ichigo had been fortunate to meet Ryou, considering that – according to him – she was a hopeless, lazy, ungrateful girl that always demanded more money. However, the man took his job as her manager quite seriously, and since she was starting to get more gig offers lately, Ryou's presence in her everyday life was expanding.

The girl crawled out of the bed, kicking back the blankets. She sat on the edge, glaring at Ryou with the hope that it'd burn a hole through his head. What kind of guy barged into a sleeping female's room and started pulling out clothes for her to wear? He wasn't her big brother.

"I'll choose my own outfit." She huffed.

The blond glanced at her briefly, his eyes sliding over her body in an once-over.

"If you want to have your own say in things, I suggest you start acting like you actually care about this line of work."

He tossed the choices he had already selected onto her bed and strode out of the room. Her door bounced harmlessly off the wall from his exit, and the scent of pancakes wafted through. Ichigo frowned.

Becoming a singer had always been her dream since she was little. She loved it more than anything, and that was quite a stretch of interest for her. She had never been particularly good at anything, nor had she ever wanted to really try hard at something.

She hadn't actually expected to do anything with singing, not until that day. Two years before, on that little TV in her room.

"Don't make me come in there and dress you!" Ryou hollered from the foot of the stairs.

Ichigo groaned, rising to her feet. She pulled the oversized T-shirt over her head and began to dress.

* * *

She had been right to assume that pancakes had been made. There was a warm, fresh stack on the table, melted butter drizzling down, pooling at the bottom of the plate. Ichigo sat down across from it, her stomach already growling eagerly. As she began to pick one off the top, Ryou lightly smacked her hand away.

"Ryou! What the heck?"

"If you had woken up on time, then you would be eating them. But since you wanted to be lazy, you're stuck with a poptart."

A pair of shades rested over his azure eyes, a sleeveless jacket hanging off his lean, muscled frame. He dropped a poptart packet in front of her, grabbing his bag off the table.

"Let's go."

"You jerk! You made them just to torture me."

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she glimpsed his lips twitch toward a smile. A taller, older man entered the dining room from the kitchen.

"Actually, I made them Ichigo-san. I'm sorry, but Ryou told me I couldn't give you any since you slept in."

Akasaka offered her an apologetic look. He had known Ryou's parents before they died, and he had been with the boy since he was an infant. He acted as sort of a live-in nanny, though he was much more than that to the blond. They were friends, and the closest thing Ryou had to family.

"And now you know better. Get an alarm clock."

He caught her wrist, yanking her out of the chair. Ichigo wretched it out of his grip, scowling angrily as she turned to pick up her things. She hated when he treated her like this. Like he was her boss, and she was only his pawn – even though it was accurate in a sense.

"I packed your lunch, Ichigo-san." Akasaka said gently.

She accepted the bento box, managing a grateful smile through her aggravation. At least _some_ men knew how to treat a lady!

* * *

Working through rehearsal was a pain. Even though she got there, received a lecture over her tardiness, and there was only half an hour left, they still hadn't called her up yet! The lead act wasn't using the precious, allotted time to rehearse with the band, and every five minutes or so she called for a water break.

"I can't believe this," Ichigo whined to Ryou, "What is the use of coming to a rehearsal that I'm not rehearsing in?"

The blond sighed, "It's all about face, Ichigo. You just have to make sure you show up for stuff. That's half of what this industry is all about."

The girl's eyes wandered back to the stage as he spoke. It was so smooth and spacious, perfect for swallowing a lone figure. Even now her stomach knotted as her gaze swept over the seats in the auditorium.

"Don't go anywhere unless they call you. I'll be right back," Ryou uttered suddenly, touching her shoulder briefly before walking away.

She watched him leave, her eyes following his confident stride. Ichigo hadn't been alone behind a stage like this before. Being left standing backstage wasn't the best possible position. The staff bustled hurriedly around her, stopping to make sound checks, assess light and sound panels. She pressed tightly into the wall, deciding that Ryou's advice would be safest.

Her mind was quickly changed as she spotted a refreshment table. Plates of square sandwiches and thickly slice cheese, ripened fruit and chilled drinks, beckoned from across the room. The poptart hadn't been satisfying at all, and to top it off, a thin layer of whipped, cream cheese crested what appeared to be a strawberry cake. White chocolate curls budded around a fresh strawberry on the crown, and Ichigo drifted toward the display, her stomach churning with delight.

It had already been evenly portioned, and small disposable plates sat idly next to it. Ichigo worried her bottom lip, staring hesitantly at the sweet delicacy. It was just waiting for an innocent, stupid girl like her. That was probably why it had been placed here, perfectly intact without a single piece missing. The crew had probably been expecting a naïve girl to not understand that it was meant to be resisted, and the moment she ate some, she'd be thrown out. Ryou would have a tantrum and kick her out of his company, telling her parents all about how she'd ruined his image and his business would fail. He'd eventually fall bankrupt and be put in jail, and all of his parents' dreams would have been a lifetime wasted.

Just because of one stupid cake.

As she was musing over this, a pale, clever finger dipped into the surface, scooping off a creamy glob. It lifted, inserting the sweet icing into a mouth. Ichigo's eyes trailed up slowly, taking in the face, the hair, and the expression_._

The lips curved into a devilish smile, and she felt her chest constrict.

"Delicious." He said.

Forest green hair escaped in playful strands from his low ponytail, framing his sharp, handsome features. Thick lashes shaded a pair of deep, honey-gold eyes that watched her through lowered lids. His skin was smooth ivory, perhaps the palest she had ever seen on a boy. Yet, though he was striking and unusual in appearance, it somehow managed to fit on him.

"I was wondering whether I should have some." Ichigo mumbled.

There was amusement in his voice.

"Don't wait too long. If you do, somebody else could come up and eat it before you do."

As he was saying this, he plucked the strawberry off the top, lifting it in offering.

"Try it."

His gaze was smoldering, and Ichigo flushed under it, her eyes falling to the fruit. The red was a striking contrast against his snowy skin, and she carefully took it from his outstretched hand, delicately biting into it. The juice was a lingering sweetness on her tongue, and she chewed slowly, relishing in something other than Ryou's idea of breakfast.

"Now, aren't you glad you had a taste?"

Ichigo smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, I guess so."

The boy grinned in response. From across the room, a crew member yelled something, effectively catching his attention.

"See you later, honey."

He pulled the half-eaten strawberry out of her hands, popping it into his mouth as he stepped away. He threw her a look over his shoulder, winking slyly before turning his interest to the crew member. Just like Ryou, there was a confidence in his gait.

Heat pooled in her cheeks as she registered what had just occurred. She would've normally been angry that he had offered her food, only to take it and share an indirect kiss with her. But somehow something told her that he wasn't bothered by stolen kisses.

"Ichigo!"

The girl started, turning to see Ryou stride toward her. His sunny hair was in disarray, the unblemished complexion reddened with irritation.

"I told you to stay still."

Ichigo fixed him with a scowl, "Maybe I would have if you had fed me better. There's free food here!"

"Learn to restrain yourself." He retorted.

A crew member moved into the conversation, his face wet with perspiration.

"Ichigo Momomiya – you're up."

Anxiety fluttered in her stomach. A shudder traveled through Ichigo's body as Ryou guided her toward the curtains. She could hardly comprehend his touch, let alone that she was about to go on stage. She mentally assured herself that the auditorium was empty.

"Don't be nervous," Ryou uttered, "I'll be right here."

The stage consumed her steps, and Ichigo felt her insides spiral as she stepped in front of the microphone. A loud, echoing 'click' sounded as the spotlight came on, flooding over her. She lifted a hand, blocking it out as she peered into the seats. A hollow feeling settled in her chest as the emptiness answered her.

Everyone was behind her, and all she could do now was look ahead. She focused on a spot in the rafters, running her tongue over her lips.

"Are you ready?" A band member whispered to her.

Ichigo blushed, nodding. A murmur trailed through the band, and then the guitarist counted off. The first note sidled through the air, a familiar mark in her memory. The following chords began to settle in a place lower, knotting with the rest of her apprehension.

She breathed into the mic, allowing the first, rehearsed words to unravel.

Ryou was waiting for her backstage with a warm water bottle when she finished. He said cold water was bad for her voice, and he always carried around a little bottle of honey, too. She accepted it appreciatively, gulping down at least half of it before she allowed herself time to breathe.

"We have to move to a photo-shoot after this."

Ichigo nearly sputtered a mouthful of water, "A photo-shoot?"

Ryou looked pleased with himself, and he smiled smugly at her surprise.

"You'll be filling-in, since the girl who was supposed to do it got sick."

She paused for a moment, and then narrowed her eyes at him.

"You didn't even praise me. Some manager, you are."

"What?"

"I just got done with a rehearsal, and you didn't even tell me if I did a good job or not."

Ryou rolled his eyes, "My job is to organize your career. Not to pat you on the back every time you finish something on the schedule. Besides, I just booked something major for you, you ungrateful girl, and _you_ didn't even thank me."

Ichigo was about to yell at him, but the words died on her tongue as a familiar figure passed through the curtains and onto the stage.

"Ryou," She said softly, "Who is that?"

The blond was caught by the abrupt change in her tone – and the conversation. He followed her gaze, his brow furrowing.

"Cyniclon."

"Cyniclon?" She echoed.

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall.

"It's a new band. They're signed on with 'Deep Blue Records'."

Ichigo grimaced, "That's one of our biggest rival companies."

Ryou nodded in agreement, and she worried her lip.

"What is that guy's name?"

She pointed at the boy from earlier. His pale skin looked iridescent under the spotlight. He pulled the mic off the stand, tapping it idly to test the sound, as though he'd done it a hundred times. As though he was comfortable standing onstage – as though he owned it.

Ryou frowned, a gesture she was recognizing he did often.

"His name is Kisshu, and he's the lead singer. That guy…"

Ryou's expression darkened, and something about it stirred unease inside of Ichigo. He didn't finish his sentence, and she almost questioned him. Before she could, his expression lightened, and he said,

"Let's eat lunch."

Thoughts of food easily obscured anything else that had been on her mind previously. Her entire day brightened when she found a little note under her packed sandwich that said,

"_There is a plate of tiramisu on the bottom shelf of the fridge, waiting for your return, Ichigo-san. :) "_

At least some men knew how to treat a lady.

* * *

_**Hello, everyone! I'm here with another addition to the TMM section. I'm excited for this one. If you get bored waiting for my updates, feel free to read my other TMM writings.**_

**_Whitewolfffy~_**


	2. Chapter 2

**~ Chapter Two ~**

Ichigo had never been in a photo shoot. The lights were blinding, cameras perched on every end of the venue. The moment rehearsals were finished, Ryou had swept her away to the next appointment, which entailed spending half an hour being plucked and preened by a team of professionals – even though the only thing she was modeling for was a perfume. The clothes she wore felt thin and revealing, but there wasn't much that could be said – not when, according to Ryou, 'such an opportunity was tossed in her direction'.

She stretched-out on a sofa for the first ten minutes, the photographer flitting around her and adjusting her skirts, the pillows, and every other miniscule detail that would be in the pictures. It took a great deal of willpower to lie still while his restless hands darted over and around her. Ryou waited at the rear of the room, his hands in his pockets while he watched in mild amusement. When they returned home, she'd have to smack that smirk off his face. She wasn't getting paid near enough for this _and_ his attitude.

The silk felt cool on her legs, and her mind drifted as the light began to flash. Her thoughts dissipated in the brief glow, drifting until they merged in distorted images. She could feel herself falling into that light until she materialized back on the stage. Ichigo could nearly sense the weight of the microphone, the thrum of nerves as the piano melted into the intro. She was there again, the voices rounding the stadium, the bead of sweat rolling down her spine.

And then in another flash an image broke through her visage – a pair of honey gold eyes, too sharp, too clever to be existent. They pushed through her line of vision, and Ichigo nearly lost her breath as she struggled to come back to the present. She blinked rapidly, lifting a hand to rub her forehead. The photographer let out a frustrated growl, and she flushed hotly as she realized she had been wearing makeup. The team that had worked on her face and outfit staggered, their faces identical masks of horror.

* * *

The drive home would have left Ichigo alone to her thoughts if it wasn't for her manager. Ryou didn't opt for silence, instead falling into the routine of voicing his exasperation and discontent with her mistakes during the day. She never had the opportunity to reminisce her own faults because he was always revisiting them for her, and today was no exception.

"I don't understand you. I'm a good manager, aren't I? I book gigs for you, I squeeze you into opportunities that no one else could possibly attain – thanks to my limitless resources. I give you a roof over your head, food to eat, and, for God's sake, professional guidance! What have I done wrong?"

She rested her chin on the door, the tip of her nose touching the window. The glass felt cool. When she breathed the perspiration warmed the surface, forming a fogged circle.

He didn't wait for a response, "When I found you, you were a lump of hopeless, untouched talent. You were a speck on that shrinking blot of a town – and do you remember what you said to me?"

She knew that he'd tell her – for the millionth time. She almost hated her past self now.

"You said, 'For music's future, I'll be of service!'. You sounded like an idiot. But it was something in the way you said it, or maybe in the stupid way you acted like you had everything you wanted within reach – but you were different, Ichigo."

She drew her finger over the window, forming a cat face in the quickly fading circle.

"That's why I chose you. The music industry is constantly changing; people get bored with the same ideas being recycled to them from various artists. I couldn't afford to invest in someone that wasn't special."

The trees and cityscape was a smear of color and lights. When she looked at the road, she could see how fast the car was going. A beat of heavy silence swelled between them, and then she felt his hand on her arm. It was warm, his skin scarred but smooth, fingers calloused from a lot of time on the computer. Ichigo didn't want to look at him – if she did she knew only two things would happen. She'd either give in to his flattery and blue eyes, or she'd lose her temper. The latter was the most likely.

"Ichigo," She could feel her chest constricting, from irritation or elevation she wasn't sure, "There's going to come a point where you can't keep acting like a child. The public wants to see something – the same thing that I saw when I first heard you sing. Potential will only carry you so far before you'll finally have to rise to it."

She waited until they had pulled-up to the curve of the driveway before she responded. It was better to say what she wanted then have somewhere to go, rather than be stuck with him and his temper in that confined space. In a way it was only proving him right about her childishness, but she didn't care.

"When you become a great role model for maturity, let me know."

Akasaka was waiting at the door. It was as though he always knew when to expect them, whether he had notice or not. She didn't speak to him, instead taking the steps to her room two at a time. Ryou was right behind her, yelling up the staircase as she slammed her door. She could still hear him afterward, barking about how stupid he must have been to take his client into his home – even though she was his only one. Ichigo knew he was upset about the photoshoot, and he had every right to be. She had completely ruined the whole thing when she smeared her makeup – a mistake that took another half hour to remedy. The photographer had been angry, and Ryou had taken most of the blame.

It wasn't easy to be a manager. She had seen the way some stars treated theirs, and their managers didn't even give them half the things Ryou gave her. When Ryou had offered to take her as a client, he had sat and spoke with her parents about the requirements. She'd have to do her schooling on the road or at their house on the few occasions they'd be there, and she'd only be able to visit on every other weekend. Mew Project was a blooming company, and since she was one of Ryou's first stars, she would be the face for representing it in the years to come.

She missed her parents. She missed her friends, and she missed being a normal girl. But she wouldn't give this up for any of it. They were necessary sacrifices for achieving her dream. She could still remember drifting into the living room while the TV was on, and hearing his voice for the very first time. He had been her inspiration, the real motivation for why she had even wanted to sing. Ichigo sat down on the edge of her bed, reaching over to her nightstand. She found the CD with an ease that hinted at familiarity. The title was worn now from use, but it still played, just as it had a hundred times. She traced the name, feeling the same ache that it always ensued from thinking too much about it.

The Blue Knight, international pop sensation and the true reason behind her need to be a singer.

His sharp blue eyes were downcast on the cover, fair hair cinched back in a flowing ponytail. There was a mystery to him, something that was left to be questioned. No one knew who he really was outside of that façade; his real identity had yet to be unveiled even after two years. But his music was captivating, with a voice that had been only described as 'angelic' by critics worldwide. Someday she was going to meet him, as a real star and not just a fan. Until then she had a long way to go to reach that level, even if it entailed suffering through Ryou and whatever other obstacles rose.

Ichigo fell back against her pillows, the album snuggly pressed to her heart. The fan circulated overhead, and distantly she could still hear Ryou grumbling. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd have to wait at least an hour before braving a conversation with him. He took forever to cool down; sometimes their tempers were so closely alike that she could predict how and when to approach him. The longer she lived with him, the harder he was to understand. It made her wonder who Ryou really was when she wasn't there, who he had been before the incident had happened. She could still recall the resentment, the bitterness and evenly restrained revulsion that had been in his expression when he spoke of Deep Blue Records at the rehearsal. It left her with the question of why he felt that way toward them; it had to be something much more than company rivalry to draw a feeling like that.

Her thoughts flitted from Deep Blue Records to their band, Cyniclon. Now that she could look back on it, she felt a leisure irritation with the lead singer, Kisshu. She couldn't believe she hadn't disputed his flirtatious behavior. He was attractive in a way she couldn't pinpoint, like a predator might be beautiful. There was a light in his tawny gaze that foreboded danger and mischief. It had followed her to her photo shoot, and now that she thought about it, that boy had been the reason for her ruined appointment.

She had only been angry with Ryou before, but now it was focused toward that Kisshu. The next time she saw him, things would be different. She couldn't afford to be weak with someone like him if she wanted to achieve meeting Blue Knight.

Akasaka had gone out to apologize to the driver for Ryou and Ichigo's dash to the house. He tipped him for his generous wait in their driveway, following leaving a tray in front of Ichigo's door with a square of fresh tiramisu and strawberries. He slipped a little note under her door that said, '_He can come off as a bully, but Ryou has good intentions._' She cracked open her door, spotting the tray on the floor. A soft smile found its way to her lips at the strawberries that had been sliced to form kitty ears and a cute face on the tiramisu. Akasaka really did know how to treat a lady.

She came down some time later, after calling her parents and telling her mother about the rehearsal and photo shoot. Her father was far more concerned with her schooling, and she assured him that Akasaka had been making sure to provide her with textbooks and help her through getting organized homework done. It was aggravating that other pop stars didn't have to do this, but she had to compromise to be away from home – another necessary sacrifice.

Dinner was delicious, as it always was. Akasaka was an outstanding cook, considering that he ran his own bakery when he wasn't at home and tending to Ryou. She shared a grateful smile with him over her tilapia for the surprise left at her door. It was common for the man to sneak sweets to her around meals without Ryou knowing. While her manager was driven and brilliant when it came to the business, he wasn't exactly the most nurturing. If it wasn't for Akasaka, she wouldn't have been able to live away from home – not even for stardom. Ryou was enough to handle without there being someone to pacify him, and the Ichigo bickered with him all the time.

After eating she went back to her room, where she sank back against the headboard and called a close friend. Lettuce was more than a friend, really. She was Ryou's primary costume and wardrobe manager for Ichigo – and once he had other stars in his company, most likely them, too. She was talented with sewing, even though she and Ichigo were the same age. Her reserved, caring nature had led to them being immediate friends, and with Ichigo's hectic lifestyle she didn't make friends often. It was still a wonder that the man had found her at all. Lettuce answered the phone with a cheerful, albeit quiet greeting.

"_Hello,_ _Ichigo-san. How was the rehearsal?_"

She would have usually been surprised that Lettuce knew about it at all, but Ryou almost always kept the few crew members he had updated.

"It was long and stressful. Ryou was a pushy, arrogant jerk again, and we got into a small fight."

Lettuce paused for a moment, "_I'm sure he has the best intentions._"

"Maybe he does, but he has the worst way of showing it."

"_Well, what happened?_"

It wasn't hard to tell her everything; Lettuce was very easy to talk to. The hard part was reliving everything verbally, and before she mentally reviewed what she was saying, she ended-up telling the girl every detail about the day. Not excluding Cyniclon and the odd way that Ryou had been speaking about them and their company. She told her about Kisshu and their meeting, not withholding the distaste in her tone. By the end of it she felt like she had just poured the entire day on the girl.

"_It does sound odd,_" She admitted about Ryou and his reaction, "_But isn't Blue Knight signed on with Deep Blue Records?_"

Ichigo swallowed thickly, a bubble of anxiety expanding in her stomach. There was no way. She couldn't have missed something like that, not when the very company she was in rivaled that label. She reached for the album, her hand finding it like it had a million times before. Her eyes scanned the back, over the sponsors until it found the record label.

_Deep Blue Records._

Something in her chest released, like a blood vessel bursting. It was painful and brief, and Ichigo stared numbly at the cover. The familiar planes of his face blurred, and she could vaguely hear Lettuce in her ear.

"_Ichigo-san? Ichigo-san, are you alright?_"

This wasn't possible. How could she ever know someone if they were her enemy in the industry? Cyniclon was with that label, but not Blue Knight.

_Please not Blue Knight._

"_I heard Deep Blue Records is participating in the music festival next week. Their artists are going to be doing a meet-and-greet with other contributing acts._"

Ichigo straightened.

"Is Mew Project going to be in it?"

Lettuce didn't respond at first, and she was afraid she might have sounded too excited, too eager.

"_You would have to ask Ryou._"


End file.
